Sometimes That's What It Takes
by SwissMiss1
Summary: Hermione despairs of Snape ever wanting her for anything more than running his errands. Until his unhinged physical therapist hits her with an untraceable curse and she ends up literally on cloud nine. SSHG.
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's Notes:_**_ This was written for __**opaljade**__ on the __**sshg_exchange**__ 2010. Unfortunately, there is no sex scene. :( A great big thank you to Tevildo from Perfect Imagination for Britpicking, canon corrections, and beta reading above and beyond the call of duty, and for making this so much better than it otherwise would have been!_

**_Original Prompt:_**_ 3) Hermione (or you can make it Snape if you wish!) is stuck on a cloud. I don't know why she can't Apparate elsewhere. Others can go visit her, but she can't come down. Ron and Harry enlist Snape to get her back on solid ground. I would love a slightly exhibitionist sex scene on the cloud! :D_

_**Disclaimer:**__This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

**Sometimes That's What It Takes**

**Chapter 1**

I pushed the door open to the old two-up two-down. As usual, the sitting room was gloomy, the only light filtering in through the dingy curtain covering the small front window. He knew I was coming; couldn't he do me the courtesy of receiving me? The old grump. Well, at least he'd given me the password so I could let myself in. Although I was fairly certain that was more for his convenience than mine.

"Lights!" I called as I took off my cloak. It was damp from the incessant drizzle, so I hung it on the coat rack right inside the door. Overhead, the candle-filled lamp flared to life, revealing the threadbare floral sofa and scratched, Bakelite coffee table. All his mother's. He hadn't touched a thing in the house since she'd died. Sad, really.

The house always smelled like overcooked macaroni and wet wool, but today there was an additional layer of chemical tang. Bulbadox, maybe. He must be making a batch of Boil Cure Potion. I pulled out my wand and twirled it toward the window, to let in a bit of fresh air. Honestly, one of these days he was going to asphyxiate himself.

My eye fell on the coffee table, where one of his special compartmentalised transport boxes was sitting. I flipped up the catch and opened the lid. Three dozen stoppered and sealed glass vials nestled in individual padded slots, all ready to go. Well, at least he'd been busy. Merlin only knew what he got up to most of the time, holed up in this place time left behind. Spinner's End indeed. It might truly end up being the end of the Spinner, in the German sense of 'the lunatic'. If only... but I'd been over it a million times. He'd never open up, never let anyone get close to him. He'd been too damaged. It was a miracle he let me do as much as he did.

Speaking of having things to do... I tapped my wand against one of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases lining the walls. It swung open, allowing me to pass through into the kitchen. I made sure my sensible, low-heeled boots clacked loudly on the wooden floorboards. _Hello, Professor! Come out, come out, wherever you are!_ He didn't like me to shout, and there was no other way to announce my presence. I knew he'd materialise eventually, if I poked around long enough.

The kitchen was spotless, as usual. Cosy, though. I'd never had an intimate relationship with our kitchen, growing up. My mother, the career woman, hardly used it. I'd practically grown up on those shrink-wrapped instant meals from M&S. My first real taste of kitchen life came from the Weasleys. But even though Molly was a good housekeeper, with all the men of the house tramping in and out all the time, and the amount of food needing to be prepared and consumed, I don't think the Burrow's kitchen ever truly got clean. The dishes from one meal were barely dry before someone would come in complaining they needed a snack.

The Professor, on the other hand... well, he was a man of fastidious habits. I didn't know if he'd been born that way, or if he'd had to learn to clean up after himself over the years. It wasn't merely a matter of sweeping and doing the washing-up, either. I was thinking of removing evidence. Merlin, the things he must have seen. He never wanted to talk about any of it. I'd the impression he was ashamed. Even though we all knew - well, the Order, anyway, and those with half a brain and half a heart - we all knew what side he'd been on after all, what he'd been put through, made to endure. I wished he'd accept there were people who valued him, people who appreciated him, people who... liked him. Or more.

Never mind. I was just going to wind myself up again. Ron thought I was mad anyway, coming over and helping him out like I did. Harry understood, or at least I thought he did. At any rate, he always made a point of inquiring after the Professor and listened to me rattle on about him. And he'd given me a shoulder to cry on, on more than one occasion.

It might sound like I was pitying him, mothering him, like I wanted to fix him, but it wasn't like that at all. I would never have wanted to change him. He was just about all the clichés you could think of: tall, dark and handsome; the strong, silent type; walks softly and carries a big... wand. Oh, dear. Well, the truth had to come out sometime. It's true, I fancied Professor Snape. There was nothing unsavoury about it; it didn't start until after I'd left school. I'd never thought of him as anything other than a teacher while I was there.

But afterwards, when I saw him at St. Mungo's, out of those awful black robes, how he fought to recover from the snake bite, how he comported himself during his trials - all three of them. And how, despite the overwhelming public vilification (even though he was cleared of all charges - three times), he undertook to remain independent, never accepted any charity, and paid back every Knut Harry'd spent on his legal bills. Well, he was still working on paying it back, and he would in full, I had every confidence of that.

I could see how someone might find this whole thing a bit like my old crusade for the house-elves. I had a very tender spot in my heart for house-elves. I admired them for working so hard, and I'd never wanted to take that away from them or change their character. Some of my best friends were house-elves. It was everyone else who had the problem, taking them for granted and not compensating them fairly, making them work under the most cruel and base conditions. They had no protections under the law, no rights...

But getting back to the Professor. There was so much to admire about him. He was truly a genius. And strong, both physically and emotionally. His limp shouldn't fool anyone. A lesser man would have been permanently paralyzed by the venom. I only wanted to create an environment where he could achieve his potential, and be happy. If he even knew what happiness was anymore. And, well, where there might be fringe benefits for myself.

I stuck my nose into the pantry, to make sure he'd been eating, and noted with satisfaction that nearly everything was gone. Half a sack of potatoes and a couple of tins of fish and beans were all that remained. Tea was nearly out, too. Might as well finish it off. Maybe the scent would lure him out. I filled the kettle and set a Heating Charm to work. In the meantime, I fetched a piece of paper and a Dicta-Quill from the front room, then came back and started on the shopping list.

I'd barely had time to write 'pasta' and 'carrots' when I heard the tell-tale _thump-draaag thump-draaag_. My heart leapt. I concentrated on not looking at the doorway and getting my breathing under control. _Let's see... tomato sauce... butter..._

"Must you gallop about?" he said disapprovingly. "It is well for you that I haven't anything delicate brewing. And what are you doing going through my cupboards?"

"There's nothing to go through," I corrected him crisply. "I'm making a list to send to the grocer's." I felt sufficiently in control to send him a sidelong glance.

He was standing just inside the kitchen, leaning casually against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, pulling the white cotton material taut over his shapely pectoral- _Oh, dear - dangerous territory!_ I tore my gaze up to his face. Hardly any better. His dark eyes were smouldering, as they usually did in my presence; he seemed to be in a constant state of irritation whenever I was around. I always hoped it was his natural attitude, and not solely reserved for me. Still, I could lose myself in those eyes. They were a promise of passion and fire, never fulfilled.

_Don't gawk!_ I reminded myself. _The shopping list!_ With difficulty and an apologetic smile, I refocused on the empty shelves, willing myself to recall what was usually stocked there. I came up empty. _Blast my hormones!_ At that moment, a shrill piping rescued me. It was the water coming to a boil.

With relief, I set the list aside and went to retrieve the kettle.

"I see you're helping yourself to my tea as well," he remarked.

"It's polite, when one has visitors, to offer them a cup of tea," I said simply, avoiding looking at him as I got out the rest of the tea things. I didn't want him to think I was being _too_ cheeky.

"You're not a visitor," he said in a deep voice that sent shivers into all sorts of delicious places. It almost sounded warm, intimate, like... but no, it was nothing more than his irritation at me invading his personal space. As usual.

I tilted my head in acknowledgement. I did, after all, feel nearly as at home in his kitchen as I did in mine. Sometimes more so. "No, I suppose not. Still, I felt like a cup, after coming all the way out here in this weather."

He stiffened and his voice became cold again. "No one asked you to come."

_Damn_. I always ended up pushing the wrong buttons with him. It was a wonder he didn't change the password and lock me out altogether. But then I knew why he kept letting me in: he needed me, and for some reason, I was the only one he trusted, other than Harry. And Harry was too busy being an Auror and trying to start a family to play messenger to Professor Snape. I measured out the tea leaves into the teapot and poured the hot water over them.

Better to move on, rather than address his retort. "Will you join me?" I asked with what I hoped was a friendly smile, as I sat down at the table.

"It is my tea," he said gruffly, and set his body down heavily on the chair opposite me. Not that he was heavy; in fact, he was as lean now as he probably had been at my age. Could most likely eat whatever he wanted and not gain an ounce. Sexy bastard.

"I saw the batch on the table in the front room. Is that everything?" I asked, wishing the tea would steep faster. I needed a cup to hold up in front of me, like a shield. I didn't know what to do with my hands, so I stuffed them down into my lap.

"Isn't that enough?" he scoffed.

"It's never enough, you know that. Your potions are very much sought-after." And they were. Even something as simple as a Pepperup Potion became nectar when brewed by his talented hands. His very strong, very agile, talented fingers, which were resting right there, on the table. All I had to do was reach out and- It was a good thing I'd already exiled my hands from sight. He couldn't see them twitch.

"As long as no one knows they were made by me," he said bitterly, apparently oblivious to the physical and emotional turmoil his presence put me through. There was more than a grain of truth in that statement, and yet...

"I think you do yourself a disservice," I said resolutely.

"It is not I-"

"I know, I know, I remember the scene at the Ministry. That was ugly, but they were wrong! And time has passed! It's been four years. People will have-"

"Forgotten?" he shot at me, incredulous.

"-moved on. They have other concerns, new worries."

"You mean the goblins." Ah, so he wasn't as much of a recluse as he liked to pretend he was.

"Yes, among other things," I agreed

Surely the tea was ready now. I poured him a cup, then myself. He took his black, but I helped myself to two lumps from the sugar bowl. It was still nearly full, I noted smugly. I was the only reason he even kept sugar in the house. Small victories.

"You can't live out the rest of your life hiding here," I said, although I knew it was futile. How many times had we had this argument? "You have too much-"

He slammed his cup down, sloshing the tea onto the table and practically causing my poor, overexcited heart to leap out of my chest.

"Don't you dare tell me I have too much to live for!"

I cringed. It was so hard to see his pain and anger, and not be able to soothe it!

"I have nothing," he shot at me. "Everything I have ever cared about has been destroyed, and all of it by my own hands!"

Yes, those hands! So much destruction wrought, true, yet so much created. And so much more that could be created, that could be experienced.

I rallied. "I was going to say you have too much talent to waste it, hiding in your cellar and brewing the same potions over and over, things you could do in your sleep!"

"I rarely sleep," he muttered, as he surreptitiously tried to clean up the tea he'd spilled.

I allowed myself to take a good, long look at him while he was distracted. His colour was pallid... but then it always was. His long, angled nose, his most prominent feature, flared slightly, indicating a heightened respiratory rate. Was he angry at me, or at himself, for spilling the tea? Probably both. His eyes, now lowered, were safe to examine. The skin beneath them was shadowed. And his cheeks hung more slackly than usual. Was he thinner? I saw him nearly every week, so subtle changes like that were difficult to notice. Maybe I should bring Harry along sometime, get his opinion. Although Harry would be as useless as all men on such a subject.

"I wish you'd get out at least. The fresh air would do you a world of good." I sounded like a broken record. I should shut up while I was ahead, because I knew what his answer would be:

"I can't. Get. Out," he gritted out between clenched teeth. "Or have you forgotten about this-" He indicated his leg, the one which had never fully recovered from the venom being in his system for so long. If only we'd sent someone back for him immediately, instead of letting him lie there all those hours... He'd never said a word in reproach.

"You seem to get around here well enough, including those infernal stairs." I had nightmares of him stumbling and falling down the narrow staircase leading into the attic, where he had his lab, and lying there, undiscovered, until I came by to pick up his weekly batch. By which time... no, it was too awful to even think about. I took a big gulp of tea to cover my discomfort, and only ended up burning my tongue. I sucked in a mouthful of cool air to ease the sting and said, deftly changing the subject, "I guess the physical therapy did some good after all."

He had fought tooth and nail against it, and only agreed to it when we found someone who would come to his house. A jolly Jamaican witch, an older woman with arms the size of hams. We'd been certain he'd kill her, but she had a resilient, no-nonsense attitude even Professor Snape hadn't been able to dent. With her, he'd first learned to use his hands again, to feed himself, take care of personal hygiene, dress himself, write, and finally, to take up his passion again, preparing his beloved potions.

His legs had been slower to respond - 'They too far away from you brain,' Madam Raffles had announced - and he hadn't walked on his own until two years after the Battle. Even then it had been halting, laborious. It had now been nearly four years, and he was living independently, could do everything he had been able to before. Except maybe run down an unfortunate student caught out after curfew (not that he'd gone anywhere near any students in all that time). I shamefacedly admit I'd had occasion to wonder if _everything_ - other than the one leg - was in full working order. I supposed I'd never find out.

Regrettably, Madam Raffles had recently contracted a rare, Wizarding disease that necessitated her moving to a drier climate to recover, but we (Harry, myself, Professor McGonagall, Molly, Shacklebolt... all the people who cared about Professor Snape and managed his care and his affairs when he was unable to) felt it was important for him to continue; it was vital for his confidence to regain full use of both legs, if that were still possible. He was using it as an excuse to hide, to shun the public. Well, that and the fact someone always ended up saying something nasty, or refusing to serve him. That time he'd had to go down to the Ministry to re-take his Apparition licence had been the last straw.

"Speaking of which, how's the new P.T. working out?" I hadn't seen her yet; all I knew was she'd just completed her training at St. Mungo's. It was probably Molly who'd organised her. Admittedly, I was a little bit jealous. Getting to work with Professor Snape on a close and intimate basis... massaging his firm, supple legs... supporting his long, hard body against hers... Or something. I'd never actually been privy to one of his sessions. I could only imagine what went on. All strictly professional, of course.

Professor Snape drew his eyebrows together. _Here comes Mr. Grump_. "I wish you would give up this idea of further improvement." I knew he didn't mean me personally, but the inclusive 'you' encompassing all the meddlers involved in his life. "I am a cripple," he said, with a surprising amount of dignity. "It is only just." I was about to jump in with a reproval when he continued: "At any rate, I find this new girl..." He seemed to be searching for an appropriate word, and I held my tongue. I was very interested in hearing how he found the new 'girl'. "...cheerful," he finally said, in a manner which indicated the very word left a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. I relaxed and took a sip of my tea.

"Cheerful is good, Professor," I said, looking over the rim of my cup at him. He narrowed his eyes, as if to say he'd expected I would say something like that. "It's good for the morale," I went on.

"I don't need morale. I need something to put me out of my misery."

I giggled. "That's precisely what cheer does, Professor." I set my cup down. Much as I enjoyed doing nothing more than sitting here with him, I did have work waiting for me back in my office, even if it was the weekend. "I need to get this list off to the grocer's," I said, pocketing the shopping list I'd started earlier. I'd finish it on my way. I'd be able to think better without his presence there to distract me. "I'll have them leave the delivery on the doorstep. Do make sure you bring it in before the foxes get to it. Oh yes, before I forget, here's your money." I took a small, clinking pouch out of the depths of my robes and set it on the table. Professor Snape didn't trust the goblins, and always insisted on cash. He also didn't trust anyone else to handle his financial transactions, but for some reason agreed to allow me to do it. He let the money sit there, untouched. I couldn't help but feel it was a personal slight.

"Is there anything else you need, Professor?" I had fantasies where, at this point, he would say, 'Yes, I need you,' but so far they had remained fantasies. This time, he didn't answer right away, and my stomach did a flip-flop as we held each other's gaze. I tried not to look away, while also trying not to blush or start grinning like an idiot. I probably ended up looking like a cross-eyed kneazle.

Finally, though, he said, in what seemed to me a very dark and disturbed manner, "You seem to know my needs better than I."

I didn't know what to say to that, nor how he meant it, so I thought it best not to say anything at all. It was so difficult picking one's way through an interaction with him. Like a minefield. I started to clear away the tea things, but he stopped me with a gruff "Leave it. I'd like to finish my tea in peace," as if the quiet interlude we had just enjoyed had been tantamount to a battle skirmish. I supposed it had.

My disappointment thick in my throat, I walked out of the kitchen as calmly as I could. Only when I reached the front door did I realise I'd been holding my breath, and it came out all shaky and shuddering. I had the urge to curl up somewhere under a quilt and have a good cry. He didn't often get to me like this anymore, but something had been different today. As if something were churning around inside of him, and it had somehow spilled over onto me. I took a deep breath to clear my mind, took my cloak off the hook and the box from the table, closed the front window again, and opened the door. It was still raining.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer:**__This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

**Chapter 2**

The cool, damp air did me good, although I did pull my hood over my head to keep the drizzle off my face. Making sure the door was locked and the box securely tucked under my arm, I set off, my eyes focused on the broken pavement to avoid any deep puddles. I hadn't gone more than a few steps, however, when I ran straight into someone. I looked up, mortified, an apology on the tip of my tongue, and found myself peering into a familiar, round face.

"Susan!"

"Hermione?"

We stared at each other for a moment, then I laughed. Susan didn't join in. Maybe I'd stepped on her foot. "What are you-" we said together, an odd tension in the air. All of a sudden it dawned on me what Susan Bones would be doing at Spinner's End.

"Don't tell me you're Professor Snape's new therapist?" Her small, tender, nubile body hovering beside his; her soft, deft fingers pressing and probing his flesh... I felt weak. And then I ordered myself to come back to reality. Susan Bones was not interested in him in that way. She was a Healer, for Merlin's sake! I definitely had to get my mind out of the gutter.

Susan pulled herself up stiffly. "I certainly am. I suppose I'm not surprised to see you here after all. You always seem to be in the midst of things. I'm sure he's mentioned me."

"Yes, yes, of course he has," I said easily, not sure exactly how to take her comment. "He didn't mention your name, that's all. He's very impressed by your disposition, you know," I told her in a half-joking manner.

"Is he?" Susan seemed to soften up.

"Yes, he was telling me how cheerful you are. If I might..." I leaned in conspiratorially and lowered my voice. "It won't hurt to be firm with him once in a while. Too much good cheer puts him off." I had meant it as a joke, but Susan didn't take it that way. I was putting my foot in my mouth right and left today!

"Oh, and I suppose you know what Severus needs?"

I was momentarily taken aback. 'Severus'? No one of our generation called him 'Severus'. Well, I admit I may have whispered the name during the course of one of my baser fantasies, but never to his face, nor even in discussing him with other people! My mind hovered, halfway back down to the gutter. On the other hand, maybe this was just Susan's way, and she called everyone - or at least all of the patients she worked with - by their first name. Maybe it had something to do with fostering trust; what did I know about such things, after all?

I had to answer her challenge, however. I thought I did have a pretty good idea of what he needed. "Well, I have known him-" I began, but she interrupted me before I could finish my sentence.

"Exactly as long as I have," she said, and was it my imagination, or was that a gleam of challenge in her eye? "And not on such an intimate level as I do," she added. The innuendo could not be overlooked; the gutter opened up to welcome my mind like an old friend, with a cup of tea and a warm shoulder.

My mind reeled. Surely there was nothing between Susan and the Professor? He would have said something; someone would have said something. I soon realised, however, that was an incorrect assumption. If there was one thing Professor Snape would not discuss with anyone, it was the existence of a personal, intimate relationship involving himself and a young woman. I doubted he would even discuss it with the young woman in question. And yet... was this what had been gnawing at him? Why he had seemed somehow different today, edgier and more sensitive? Had he been worried Susan would come while I was still there? That I would find out about them? I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked slowly, uncertainly.

Susan smirked, obviously smelling blood. "Exactly what I said. I know you come by once in a while to check on Severus, do menial tasks." _Oh, no, you don't. Now you've crossed the line_, I thought. Even if she did have something with him, she wasn't going to get away with disrespecting me like that. "He told me he finds your visits unnecessary and, quite frankly, tiresome," she informed me loftily. "In fact," she said, as her eye alighted on the box I was still holding, "I'll be handling his potions deliveries from now on."

She reached out and tried to physically remove the box from my possession. I was having none of that. Perhaps it was the fact that she seemed to have seized on the idea on the spur of the moment, but something about her entire story didn't ring true to me. Or maybe I was in denial. Heavy denial.

"I'm afraid I'll have to hear that from Professor Snape personally," I said coldly, wrenching the box back and holding it out of her reach. "There have been attempts to cheat him in the past."

Susan's eyes grew big and bulged out in a way very reminiscent of Luna Lovegood. I'd always wondered if she didn't have a thyroid condition. "Are you accusing me of trying to cheat him?" Susan demanded, her voice rising. It was a good thing this was a run-down, half-abandoned part of town, and raining to boot. There was no one's attention to draw. On the other hand, the fact that there were no witnesses might turn out not to be in my favour. "I think you're the one who's cheating him," Susan shot back at me. "Come to think of it, does he even know you've taken these? I think you should stay away from this house from now on, Hermione Granger." She seemed to be drawing strength from her tirade, and delivered her punch line with force: "There are going to be some changes around here."

I, however, was not ready to give up quite yet. Or maybe it was just the madness in me talking now. "You can't tell me whom I may or may not visit. I most certainly will not be staying away from this house, unless Professor Snape asks me to himself, and only then if I am assured that someone else is taking proper care of him and his business. In fact," I suggested, "why don't we go in and ask him right now?" I congratulated myself on my brilliance. What I wouldn't give to see Professor Snape's face when confronted with both my and Susan's presence at the same time! The bastard deserved that small discomfort, after all he'd put me through. Not that he knew what he'd put me through, of course. And it was better that he never knew. Still, although it was petty of me, I would take a small degree of satisfaction in seeing him squirm at being found out.

I turned sharply on my heel and marched back toward the house.

"Don't you dare!" Susan shrieked.

I looked up at the windows of the surrounding houses. Surely such a volume and pitch should have drawn the neighbours' attention. Not that I was feeling nervous and hoping for rescue; I knew Susan wasn't about to hex me or anything. But embarrassing Professor Snape not only in front of me, but in front of his entire neighbourhood, would have been the icing on the cake.

Susan rushed around and put herself between me and the house. I raised my eyebrows and put my hand (the one that wasn't holding the Professor's precious potions) on my hip.

"For all I know," she said, "you're going to put some enchantment on him without my seeing it. You always wanted to keep all the men for yourself, but you were too much of a tease to ever take advantage of the situation once you had them! I saw how you lost it when Ron got together with Lavender, but then you never wanted him for yourself, either, did you?" She was getting quite worked up about things that had happened years ago, back when we were teenagers. I wondered whether she had led a very sheltered life, or was just grasping at straws to find things to accuse me of. "Or when Harry and Ginny got together, you couldn't even stand to be in the same room with them; don't think I didn't notice, just because I wasn't in Gryffindor!" _Victim of a Hufflepuff inferiority complex?_ I thought cattily. "And now they're married and out of your clutches, so you have to come over here and bother Severus, and stop him from having any sort of relationship with anyone else. You're sick! And you're not going to come between me and Severus, that's for bloody sure!" She was breathing heavily and had gone quite red in the face. I began to get the distinct impression that she was not entirely in touch with reality.

"Come between you and-" I said softly, my face twisted up in disbelief. "You're the one who's sick, Susan. Honestly, no one would believe half of what you're saying. I'm not even going to dignify that with a response. But I'm certainly beginning to question how healthy it is for you to be treating Professor Snape. It's obvious you have some sort of delusion about the nature of your relationship with him. I think we should go in together and get to the bottom of this." And I did. If I was wrong, by Merlin, I would apologise and never set foot in that house again. Not even in this city. In fact, I might go so far as to emigrate. But if she was wrong... There was no way I could allow her to continue to work with Professor Snape. The girl needed help. And he didn't need any more madness in his life. His own was more than enough.

I tried to walk around her to get to the door, but Susan grabbed my arm. Her grip was surprisingly strong. "Stop right there!" she thundered. I never would have guessed she had such a tone of voice in her, but there it was. "Hermione Granger, I'm warning you: get away from that door!"

"Get your hands off me," I told her, shaking her off with an effort. She made another lunge at me, but I was faster and had already tapped the knocker with my wand.

"Password?" the woeful brass face requested, but before I could respond, Susan had whipped out her wand and pointed it at me. I was paralyzed; I hadn't expected this. I wasn't able to start so much as a _Protego_ when she screeched out her spell.

"_Exilinimbus!_"

With a flash of light and a puff of smoke, I disappeared.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer:**__This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

**Chapter 3**_  
_

The sun was shining. There were clouds everywhere. _Oh my God, I think she killed me_, was my first thought. My second was, _Why is it so cold, and where are all the angels and harps?_ I looked around. I was standing - if that was an accurate description; it wasn't like I could feel anything under my feet - on an endless sea of cloud.

It looked exactly like what Heaven was supposed to look like: a vast expanse of fluffy white lumps as far as the eye could see, the sun throwing its long, golden rays across the tableau, the sky tinged delicate pinks and purples at the edges. I looked down. My feet seemed to be resting on the clouds' surface, as if it were a spongy bed of moss. I bounced a little, testing the solidity. There was no give, but it didn't feel hard, either. I took a tentative step, and the clouds held. I took a few more steps; it was more of the same. I bent over and tried to push against the 'ground' with my hand. It felt cool and wet, but I couldn't breach the surface. It was like a white, misty, force field. _Strange_. I went to set the potions box down, as it was getting tedious to hold. Contrary to my expectation, however, it wouldn't rest on the ground. Instead, it slipped easily into the clouds, and I nearly lost it. Luckily, I was able to re-tighten my grip on it in the nick of time. Maybe it was me that was impermeable, and not the clouds?

After tucking the box safely back under one arm, I leaned over again and stuck my wand down into the clouds, making sure to maintain a firm grip. It easily slid in, up to my fingers, then would go no further. It didn't feel like it had hit the bottom, though. It was simply the fact that the clouds would not allow any part of my body to pass through them. I pulled the wand back. It was damp, but otherwise seemed to be unchanged.

_All right_. I now had another theory in addition to the death one, which I didn't want to discount yet, although the behaviour of the box and the wand made me think there was something else going on. It could be that Susan had somehow sent me to an odd, alternate dimension. I wondered how long I would have to wait here, whether I was alone, and if there were anything I could do to get back. I started walking slowly, still wary; maybe there were traps or pitfalls, places where I could be swallowed by the ground like the box had nearly been. There were no landmarks, no change in the endless whiteness below nor the unrelenting blue above. I started to suffer from snow blindness - cloud blindness? - with the brilliant light reflecting off the white surface. My eyes were watering. I closed them, and felt dizzy. I also felt tears of emotion coming on.

_Come on, Hermione! Don't panic! You've been in worse situations than this!_ I told myself. _At least there's no insane Death Eater, man-eating plant, or giant snake trying to torture, digest, or petrify you. Right?_ I opened my eyes, shielding them with my hand and squinting, and looked around again. Nope. But there did appear to be a break in the whiteness a short distance away. Something darker...

I made my way over toward it cautiously. The ground was becoming greyer, the texture changing. Whereas before it had been composed of soft lumps, now it became more like grainy strands. And there - I had to stop myself as my head whirled; I was in danger of toppling over the edge. I realised with shock that I was neither in an alternate dimension, nor, most likely, dead. I was literally _up on top of the clouds_, far over some city. It was entirely probable that was the town I'd just been in, or a neighbouring one. All I could see through the gap in the clouds were rows and rows of tiny houses, and some lines cutting through them which might be streets or rivers. I didn't fancy taking a more thorough look. _I do not like heights. No, I certainly do not like heights!_ There was a reason I never took to flying.

I wondered, dizzily, if it would be possible for me to fall through the hole, whether the clouds were keeping me up after all, and if so, if another gap were to appear nearby without me noticing it - right beneath my feet, even - whether I would plummet to the earth before I realised what was happening. Rather than take that very alarming chance, I backed carefully away from the hole, retreating to where the clouds were thicker and more solid.

As I was doing so, my mind and body running at about a million miles an hour with all the new impressions, information, and possibilities, one logical flash came to me: if I was only a few thousand feet in the air (frightening as that was), as opposed to being in an unknown, alternate dimension (or dead), I could simply Apparate away! With great relief and smugness, as well as slight sheepishness at having taken so long to come to this conclusion, I closed my eyes, thought of the place I reckoned was the closest and thus the safest to Apparate to - the street before Professor Snape's house - and - Nothing. The beginnings of panic gripped me again. Maybe my magic was completely blocked.

"_Lumos!_" That was stupid, I realised as soon as I'd said it; it was so bright already, I couldn't tell whether my wand had lit up or not. _What else, what else..._ I lifted the edge of my cloak and found a stray thread dangling. "_Diffindo!_" I easily sliced it off. A slight relief trickled through me. At least I wasn't stranded here without magic, on top of everything else!

I watched the thread as it drifted away. It floated slowly downwards until it vanished soundlessly in the clouds beneath my feet. Gone.

_All right. Consider this rationally_, I told myself. _Maybe that's a different city altogether down there, and the Professor's house is out of Apparition range_. If I could only find a landmark... I edged closer to the hole in the clouds again, as close as I dared, and tried to make sense of the miniature world below me. Everything looked grey; it was still raining down there. There was a large, irregularly-shaped dark patch. It might be a forest. Another darker, snakey shape was probably a river. There was a river near Professor Snape's house, wasn't there? I could sometimes smell it on my way there and back. _Oh, this was hopeless!_ I needed another solution.

I stepped away from the gap in the clouds again. It was a good job the weather was always so dreary at this time of year; I would probably have enough cloud cover for several days, at least, if it came to that. But there had to be a way down!

I was getting tired of standing by now, and of holding the Professor's box. Not seeing any other seats, I lowered myself carefully to the ground (as I thought of the cloud surface). I tried to arrange my cloak underneath me, but the clouds weren't impervious to it, and it merely dangled down into the misty mass. Not wanting it to get soaked through, I hauled the ends back up and tucked them around me. The box received a spot perched on my crossed legs.

_Susan, you really have landed me in a fine kettle of Plimpies_, I thought, troubled. _All this for Professor Snape?_

I couldn't see how the two of them would make each other happy. They seemed like such... polar opposites. _Opposites attract_, a smarmy little voice in my head told me. The same one that always told me I was being ridiculous when I took care with my hair and clothes and brushed my teeth before going to the Professor's.

No, it couldn't be true. Susan must have made it up. She simply must have.

The stray thought struck me: what would Professor Snape's Patronus turn into, if Susan became his source of happiness? Harry and Ron had told me about the doe, although I had never actually seen it. Ron thought it was hilarious, and Harry thought it was just plain weird. I actually found it rather romantic.

_Wait._

_Patronus. _

I slapped myself on the forehead. Then I took it back, because the Apparition idea hadn't worked either. But if this did work, I could send a message to Harry and have him come up to fetch me. Yes, it meant I'd have to get on a broom for the first time in Merlin knows how many years, but given a choice between that and waiting until the clouds dissipated ...

I took a deep breath and blew it out, closed my eyes, and searched my memory: the realisation that Harry wasn't dead after all ... receiving the Order of Merlin ... being re-united with my parents ... "_Expecto Patronum!_" Brownie - my otter Patronus (Ron had christened his little Jack Russell 'Charger') - leapt from my wand and tumbled over and over in a joyous somersault. I always imagined he was like the genie in the lamp, waiting somewhere to be released, and happy to stretch his legs a bit. So far so good. I waited until he rolled over on his back in front of me, as if he wanted me to rub his ghostly belly. Then I leaned over and whispered my message, along with the instruction to deliver it to Harry.

And then he was gone, dipping into the clouds with a splash of mist. I realised with an uneasy feeling that I was becoming thirsty. _Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink_. Clouds were actually composed of fresh water, although I couldn't drink them. Unless... A flash of insight came to me. It should work...

"_Aguamenti!_"

A burbling stream of water flowed out of my wand. I grinned and took a nice, long drink. Of course, it wasn't possible to create water in the middle of a desert; the Aguamenti Charm only gathered water from a nearby source and funnelled it through the wand. Apparently, clouds worked as well as ground water or plumbing. I felt quite pleased with myself. I knew I couldn't do the same thing to get food, but at least I would be able to survive for a couple of weeks, if worst came to worst.

It wouldn't, though. It couldn't! Susan surely hadn't meant to harm me. She had probably been scared I was going to call her bluff, and reacted in the heat of the moment. I wasn't sure I wouldn't have done something similar. I still got hot all over when I recalled sending those birds after Ron, back at school. It had been a childish reaction, and counter-productive. I was certainly no stranger to jealousy, nor to lashing out with magic. The more I thought about it, the more I relaxed. Susan's conscience would probably get to her as soon as she calmed down. She would reverse the spell and return me safely to sea level. Maybe she was only going to keep me up here for as long as she had her session with Professor Snape, so I couldn't ruin the afternoon for her.

Still, there were going to be consequences. She couldn't be allowed to continue attending to the Professor. That conclusion wasn't the result of jealousy or possessiveness on my part. I was perfectly willing - happy, even - for a medi-magical professional to continue working with the Professor on his physical recovery. Not that I had a say in the matter, either way. It was entirely up to him. No, if feelings had developed, on either of their part, it would be unethical for Susan to continue working with him in a professional capacity. I considered what I would do, how things would change for me, if at all, should it turn out that, by some bizarre corruption of all that was right and just in the universe, Professor Snape and Susan Bones did want to ... play Bremen-Town musicians together.

_Ew. _

That was simply... wrong. I shuddered. But I would deal with it. It might take a Memory Charm or two, but I would deal with it. I had never held any claim over him. He had no idea how I felt. Not that I ever could have told him. I could just see it: 'Oh, by the way, Professor, here's an order for Boil Cure Potion, and I'm deeply, irrevocably in love with you and have fantasies about ravishing you right here in your kitchen. They'd like it to be ready by next Thursday.' I shivered again. It was quite nippy up here. I pulled my cloak closer and wondered what time it was. The sun was still bright, but the shadows were getting quite long. Surely Susan was finished with Professor Snape by now. In the most upstanding, professional sense, of course!

I also wondered whether my Patronus had reached Harry yet, and if he would be able to find me.

There was nothing left for me to do but wait.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer:**__This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

**Chapter 4**

Harry Potter was a busy man. Between following up reports of suspected Dark doings; meeting with superiors, subordinates, and friends looking for favours (he couldn't find it in himself to say no to people); trying to make sense of the whole goblin affair; and his new wife of six months giving him constant updates on the state of her ovaries (and expecting him to rush home and be 'ready for action' at a moment's notice), he didn't know half the time whether he was coming or going.

At the moment, he'd holed himself up in his office, trying to catch up on some paperwork. And so when the small, glowing shape poured itself through the keyhole, he didn't pay much attention at first; he assumed it was 'Charger', inviting him to meet Ron for a pint after work. It was only when the creature leapt insistently up onto his desk and gambolled over the monthly arrest statistics that he realised it was an otter, and sat up straight. Hermione didn't usually send her Patronus except in the most extreme circumstances.

Once the silver otter was certain of Harry's attention, it reported in Hermione's anxious voice: "_I'm stuck on a cloud; probably over Snape's house. Help!_" and then dissolved into thin air.

Harry blinked. How in the world...?

The ten-word limit on Patronus messages was always a bit of a hindrance to unambiguous communication, but Harry knew Hermione always made the best of it, and if she said she was stuck on a cloud over Snape's house, then she was stuck on a cloud over Snape's house. It just seemed like... a rather odd thing to have happened. And the fact that she had said 'help' made it fairly urgent. He exhaled heavily and pushed back his chair. He supposed he'd better get Ron in on this as well. Even four years after they'd left school, Ron would feel slighted if Harry and Hermione had an adventure without him.

He sent his own stag off to Ron, instructing him to Floo to the Wicked Weevil, and headed for the door.

I was trying to be brave. I was certain everything would work out in the end. It had been hours since I'd sent the message to Harry, though, and since Susan should have been done with the Professor, and I was still sitting on top of a nimbostratus, feeling damp and cold. And it was getting dark. Dusk would already have passed down below. Here, the sunset had been glorious, all pink and gold, but I hadn't truly been able to enjoy it. The first stars were beginning to sparkle up in the clear, indigo sky. With the sun gone, the temperature was plummeting as well. I already had my hood over my head and my cloak buttoned up, with my hands buried inside the sleeves.

I'd had to relieve myself a short while ago. I'd held out as long as I could, counting on help coming soon. In the end, though, I'd whispered an apology to the residents of the city below and squatted. My only hope was that it was still raining below, and the rain would dilute things. I'd never go out without an umbrella again.

I was worried. I tried not to be, to keep my spirits up, but I was frustrated by my inability to resolve my situation, and by the fact that I had no idea what was going on down on the ground. As long as I stayed awake, I could keep an eye on the shifting clouds, make sure no hole came too close to me. But it was looking more and more as if I would have to sleep up here. How could I keep myself safe while I was unconscious? My stomach clenched uncomfortably with nerves and hunger, and I conjured up another small fountain of water to drink from.

I'd had plenty of time to think this afternoon. About the Professor. About life. I was twenty-two years old and felt like I was doing little more than drifting along.

I had a job that meant something to me in the D.R.C.M.C., even if the hours were long, it didn't pay much, and the work was thankless. And my superiors took an open stance against everything I believed in, and saw to it that every attempt I made at upholding basic rights for all magical beings in the Department's purvey was doomed to failure before I'd even finished drafting a proposal.

I had my own flat - well, I shared it with Crookshanks - and had had a grand total of two boyfriends since Hogwarts, not counting Ron, whom I only officially went out with for about three months after the Battle. We both realised soon enough we'd drive each other batty if we actually had to live together. The other two chaps had been quite acceptable, but Walter was too much of an outdoor type, always wanting to go camping on the weekends. I'd had quite enough of camping to last me a lifetime, thank you very much. And Josh was more of a rebound from Walter; I only talked myself into thinking I was head over heels for him, and when the first rush wore off, there wasn't anything left.

Then there was Professor Snape. He was a constant presence in my life over the last four years, the only one, really, other than Harry and Ron. He'd been a project at first, something for me to focus on, to keep me from dwelling on the deprivations and horrors of that year, and of that one terrible night. I was only peripherally involved, for the most part - not having any professional skills to offer - but I helped where I could, and followed his progress with interest, and, soon, admiration. And the fact that every time he looked at me, my knees went weak and my mouth went dry made it difficult for me to make room in my life for a relationship with anyone else. I knew I was hopeless, but you can't control who you fall for, more's the pity.

Thinking about the whole wretched scene with Susan, I had to admit there was a grain of truth in one of her accusations: I didn't want anyone else to have the Professor, and there was a part of me that gloated that I was one of the few he admitted to his home, and the only one I knew of who was young, female, and single. Except for Susan, now.

If it did turn out that the rest of what she'd said was true as well - the part about her and Professor Snape - well, then... I'd be happy for him. For them. It would actually be a good wake-up call for me, to make me stop mooning over someone I could never have anyway. I tried to ignore the knife which seemed to have lodged itself in my heart.

My muscles were stiff and sore from sitting in the same place in the cold for so long. I didn't want to wander too far from my original position, to make it easier for someone to find me, although I knew the clouds themselves were shifting, and might have carried me many miles away by now. I stood up to stretch, still taking care not to lose Professor Snape's potions. It would be completely dark soon; I would no longer be able to make out an approaching cloud hole. I lit my wand, trying not to worry about the pitifully small circle of illumination it afforded me. I made a sweep of my immediate area, and as I did so, I thought I heard something. It had been eerily quiet all afternoon: no traffic, no leaves rustling, not even any birds. There seemed to be an airline flight path some distance away (another thing to worry about!), as I'd regularly seen aeroplanes breaking through the clouds, but none had come near me, so I felt fairly certain that as long as I didn't drift close to them, I wouldn't be surprised by a 747 popping up beneath me. Other than that the only sound had been the constant, unrelenting wind rushing in my ears.

Now, however, there was something else there. I lifted my wand, trying to determine where the sound had come from, but the wind made it impossible. All of a sudden, it was there, right behind me: "Hermione!" It was Ron's voice!

I whirled around, my hair whipping across my face, and found Ron hovering there, on his broom, a huge grin on his face. There were few moments in my life when I'd been more glad to see him. I barrelled into him and slung my free arm around him, pressing him fiercely to me.

"Whoa, whoa, Hermione, you're going to pull me off," he protested good-naturedly. "I don't think I can stand here."

I had to admit, he was probably right. While he was floating there, one of his feet was already dipping into the clouds, a move that would have been impossible for me.

I was on the verge of asking about Harry (after all, I had sent the message to him, not to Ron), when Ron said, "Hang on, I'll let Harry know I've found you." He produced Charger and sent him off with a brief message. "It's a good thing you started signalling with your wand," he said. "It's getting dark. Well, up you go." He shifted forward on his broom to make room for me.

"I was beginning to think I'd have to spend all night up here," I said, laughing with relief, as I swung one leg over the broom. "Did you have a hard time finding me? Where are we, any-" My chatter stuck in my throat as I realised I couldn't lift my other leg. It was as if my foot were cemented to the cloud.

"Somewhere north of Manchester, nearly over Bolton, I'd reckon," he answered, oblivious to my little problem. "You must have drifted pretty far if you started out over -"

"Ron," I whispered, interrupting him. "Ron, I can't get my foot up. I'm stuck." I felt the tears prickling up again. I was so close to being rescued, so close!

"What?" Ron looked down at my traitorous appendage, firmly planted on the cloud. He twisted around to reach down and tug at it, nearly tumbling both of us off the broom, but there was nothing for it. I knew in an instant that every effort would be fruitless.

"Ron, Ron, stop," I said, getting back off the broom. "It's no good. It's part of the enchantment." I stood there, downcast.

"What enchantment? How did you get up here, anyway?"

I shook my head and sniffled. "It was Susan. Susan Bones. And Professor Snape-"

"Snape?" Ron's voice took on a menacing tone. "I knew you should stay away from him. I don't care what everyone says about him being rehabilitated."

"No, Ron," I said, trying to calm him. "He didn't do this. He doesn't know about it. It was _because_ of him- Oh, never mind. It doesn't matter."

Over Ron's shoulder, I could see another dark figure approaching rapidly. _It must be Harry_, I thought, and mere seconds later, my best friend emerged from the twilight on his broom. He braked abruptly, turning in a tight semi-circle to avoid running into Ron.

"Nice going," he congratulated Ron, pounding him on the shoulder. "Come on, Hermione, let's get out of here. I can hardly see where I'm flying."

"I can't," I said miserably. "I'm stuck."

"What do you mean, you're stuck?"

"I can only lift one foot at a time. It seems some part of me has to always be in contact with the cloud." I attempted to demonstrate by lifting one foot and then failing to be able to hop.

"Let's see about that." Before I could protest, he had zipped over to my side, wrapped one arm around me, and tried to pull me up onto his broom. Impressed as I was by this feat of machismo, one foot remained steadfastly attached to the cloud's surface. He released me and scratched his head.

"What if you take off your-" he started, but I held up a hand to stop him.

"It won't work, Harry. I'm the one who's enchanted, not my clothes." It had been a clever thought, admittedly, but I didn't want to risk losing my boot for something that was obviously not going to help me. My admiration for Susan's spellwork was increasing in direct proportion to my despair at ever getting out of here.

"Well, bloody Merlin in a frying pan," Ron swore, hovering.

"Why don't you tell us what happened, Hermione?" Harry asked. "Maybe we can find a way around this." His Auror training was starting to bear fruit: ask questions first, analyze, then seek solutions. I was quite proud of him. However, I'd already been through everything backwards and forwards for the past few hours, and if I hadn't figured out a solution, I hardly saw how Harry would.

"It was Snape-" Ron began, a definite snarl in his tone.

"It was not Professor Snape," I corrected him through bared teeth. "It was Susan Bones."

"Susan Bones? Wasn't she at school with us?" Harry asked.

"Yes, and now she's a Healer." I sighed. I could see I would have to tell them the entire, sordid tale. "She's Professor Snape's new P.T. That's physical therapist," I clarified. "She came to see him this afternoon, right when I was leaving. We had words, and... somehow, she got the impression I was a threat to her, and she must have sent me up here to get me out of the way."

"A threat?" Harry frowned. "In what way? You didn't hex her, did you?"

"No, of course I didn't hex her! Harry, you know I wouldn't do something like that!"

"Thebirds," Ron coughed into his hand.

I gave him a sour look and continued speaking to Harry. "She seems to have got it into her head that she and Professor Snape are... Well, that they're together."

Ron groaned. Loudly. "What is it about him? First you, now her? Tell me honestly, Harry, has he got something? Some secret power over women?" They both knew about my sad little obsession; Ron still harboured a secret conviction that Professor Snape had dosed me with a love potion.

Harry laughed. "I don't think so, Ron."

"He's a very powerful wizard, in the prime of his life," I explained loyally.

"He's old," Ron muttered.

"He's _mature_," I emphasised.

"He's got a gimpy leg-"

"That's a cheap shot, Ronald Weasley!"

"Now, now, children," Harry interceded, holding up one hand. "This isn't getting us anywhere. Hermione, go on, tell us what happened with Susan."

"She was very odd," I said, recalling the wild look in her eyes. "I suppose it could be true, but... somehow, I don't think so. I rather think she's lost touch with reality."

"She'd have to, to fall for that berk," Ron couldn't help commenting.

"Ron," I said reprovingly. "Anyway, she told me I shouldn't come round anymore, as she would take care of Professor Snape's deliveries from now on. Only, I'd just been in to pick up a batch, and he didn't say anything about it. I gave him his money, like usual, and he told me to take the next batch. Here it is." I produced the box from where it had been tucked up under my cloak. Harry reached out for it. I relinquished it with both relief and a touch of uneasiness. It wasn't that I didn't trust Harry with it; it had been something of a comfort to me, holding something of the Professor's close to my heart.

Harry balanced himself and took his other hand off his broom so he could open the box. All the little vials were still in place.

"What are they?" he asked, holding the box close to his face in order to see the contents better in the dim light from my wand.

"Boil Cure Potion. I don't think that has anything to do with it."

Harry snapped the lid shut. "You never know. Go on."

"Well, then she said I was in the way, coming between her and the Professor, and I should stay away. I told her I'd need to hear that directly from him, and tried to go back to the house, but she wouldn't let me. She was quite agitated, saying I was trying to cheat the Professor, and put a spell on him, and ... other things," I concluded vaguely, not wanting to mention the part about me being a jealous hag and trying to keep Harry and Ron for myself. Which wasn't even true! "And then she took out her wand - she was so fast, I didn't see what she was doing - and she cast it."

"What was it? Did you hear it?"

"I'm not sure... It sounded something like 'Silly Nimbus'... something with 'nimbus' at any rate. Which explains the clouds."

"Right," Harry said, all business. "I'm sure you've tried all the usual things... _Finite_, Apparating..."

"I did try to Apparate - it didn't work, obviously - but I didn't actually try a _Finite_," I admitted. "I was afraid it would end the spell directly, and I'd fall."

"Let's try it, then," Harry said. "Can't hurt. Here, you get up on Ron's broom." He took out his wand.

Now that I had both hands free, it was easier to get up behind him, leaving that one stubborn foot still stuck to the ground. I didn't hold out any great hopes of this working. It was notoriously difficult to end someone else's spell, nearly impossible if you didn't know what spell it was in the first place. On the other hand, Harry was a trained Auror. A tiny flicker of hope rose in my chest as he pointed his wand at me.

"_Finite Incantatem!_" he intoned. The flicker died away. My foot was as stuck as ever.

"It didn't work," I sighed, getting off Ron's broom again.

"I say we round up Susan," Ron said briskly. "Bring her up here and break this."

"Susan Bones will definitely be my next stop," Harry vowed. "But we've also got to take care of you," he said to me. "In case I can't find Susan right away, you'll need food, water, some way to keep warm."

"I can handle the water," I said, demonstrating with an Aguamenti Charm. "Some food would be nice," I admitted, "but what I'm most worried about is falling through a gap in the clouds, or the spell ending abruptly."

Harry and Ron both thought about it for a moment. Then, in one of those impulsive shows of loyalty that made him so dear to me, Ron said, "Here, you take my broom." He flew over so he was right next to Harry and transferred himself over onto the back of Harry's broom. "Harry and I will go back down."

"-and I'll track down Susan," Harry picked up Ron's plan.

"In the meantime, I'll go get you some things. I'll be back before you know it." Now settled behind Harry, Ron held his broom out to me. I took it, feeling immensely safer. Now if I did start to fall, all I'd have to do was get up onto the broom. I silently thanked Madam Hooch and all the broom gods for having forced me to learn to steer and control a flying broomstick. Also for the fact that it was dark now, so no one would see me flailing about on it.

Harry handed Professor Snape's box to Ron, so he could steer.

"How will you find me again?" I asked, as the boys were about to go.

"Ah, good point," Harry said. He sat up straighter in order to dig around for something in his pocket. He came up with a small disc, which he held out to me.

I recognised it as a Tricky Tracker, a Weasleys' product.

"Do you just happen to carry these around with you?" I asked Harry, amused.

"As a matter of fact, I do," he said with a grin. "You never know when you'll want to tail someone."

I pocketed the small tracking device. Now I could be found within a five-kilometre radius. It should be good enough for Ron to find his way back.

"You going to be okay?" Harry asked.

"I'll be fine," I assured him, with more confidence than I actually felt. I tried to be positive, though. Harry would probably find Susan and get her to end the enchantment before Ron was halfway to the Burrow. I wouldn't have to spend the night here. Surely not.

"Well then, hold tight; we'll see you in a bit." Ron waved as Harry steered his broom away and down, and they were swallowed up by the clouds.

I looked around. The cloud surface looked solid as far as I could see, which reassured me slightly. I turned off my wand light. It was completely dark now, as the moon hadn't come up yet. The sky above was brilliant with stars. I found the Big Dipper right away, and Orion; Andromeda and the Chariot. I sat down again and pulled my cloak up around my legs. And waited.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: This work of fiction is based on the Harry Potter series created by J.K. Rowling and owned by various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. _

**Chapter 5**

"I don't think you understand quite how serious these charges are, Susan." Harry shook his head and tapped the parchment on the table in front of him. "We have unprovoked cursing, use of a non-catalogued spell, reckless endangerment of life and limb-"

"Unprovoked? I should say she provoked me!" Susan squeaked indignantly.

"Did she have her wand out?"

"N- Yes! Yes, she did," Susan exclaimed triumphantly and pointed at Harry. "She had it out and was going to hex me."

Harry ran a hand over his face. It was after midnight, and they weren't getting anywhere. He hadn't had any trouble finding Susan at her flat, nor in bringing her in for questioning. She had been quite cooperative, in every respect. Except in agreeing to end the spell she'd cast on Hermione.

"All right," he sighed. "Let's say, simply for the sake of argument, that she did."

Susan looked pleased with herself.

"Whatever threat there may have been is over now. You're sitting here, safe and sound. Hermione, on the other hand, is floating on a cloud somewhere over northwest England. She could potentially fall to her death at any moment." He conveniently left out the fact that Hermione was in possession of Ron's broom and would thus most likely be able to survive said potential fall. Most likely wasn't certainty, however. Plus, he wanted to turn the screws on Susan's conscience. If she had one.

She remained untouched. In fact, she sniffed derisively and announced, "She has the power to free herself."

"How?" Harry nearly shouted, exasperated. "She's tried everything, we've tried everything we can think of. She can't Apparate, cancel the spell, or leave the cloud."

Susan tossed her head and jutted out her chin. "All she has to do is renounce Severus."

Harry eyed her shrewdly. "Professor Snape? What does he have to do with this?"

Susan studied her nails. "If she gives up any claim on him, the enchantment will end on its own."

"Hermione has no claim on Professor Snape," Harry said.

Susan looked displeased. "The spell seems to think she does."

Harry stared at her. "Let me get this straight. You came up with a spell which gets rid of anyone who wants Professor Snape?"

Susan appeared to consider this for a moment. "I don't think that's entirely accurate; it's something of a cross between the Unwanted Suitor Charm and the Exile Enchantment. The spell is keyed to me, though, not to Severus. I had to have some means of removing potential rivals, you see," she explained matter-of-factly, warming up now that Harry had stopped asking questions and railing at her, and was standing there, supporting himself against the table with one arm, his mouth hanging halfway open in what she took to be rapt attention. "It will only work on someone who carries a torch for the same person I do. Which happens to be Severus," she said, biting her lip coyly. "I know you understand me, Harry. After all you've done for him." She looked at Harry so ingenuously that all he could do was nod.

"I've followed his story for years," she went on. "I realised right away he needed someone to take care of him, so I trained as a Healer. I put my nose to the grindstone and finished the programme in only three years, but of course by then he was already living at home, practically a recluse! It's all that Hermione Granger's doing! She's been keeping him there, not letting him out, keeping him drugged so he can't think straight. I don't know why someone hasn't done anything!" She looked accusingly at Harry.

He sat down slowly, fascinated. He hadn't heard a yarn this good in years. "I don't know, either," he said, carefully. "But go on."

"Well, I found out there was one other person who went to his house regularly, and who was allowed to be there alone with him: Madam Raffles, his physical therapist." Susan's eyes narrowed. "I saw my only chance was to take her place. So I spent the last year getting my certification, and as soon as Madam Raffles was out of the way, I made sure mine was the only application that would be reviewed."

Harry stirred. "That was quite a coincidence, wasn't it? Madam Raffles getting sick and needing to leave the country right then?"

Susan looked surprised. "Oh, it was no coincidence. St. Mungo's has quite a collection of viral agents."

Harry paused for a moment. "What House did you say you were in?"

"Hufflepuff." Susan cocked her head to one side.

"Riiiiight..." Harry did not pursue it further. "And so once Madam Raffles was out of the way, you had your entr e to Professor Snape's house."

Susan looked pleased that Harry had comprehended her entire plan. "That's right."

"And along the way, you came up with this spell... What did you say it was called?"

Susan looked at him slyly. "Now, I can't give that away, can I? You'll send the information straight down to the curse breakers and get them to release Hermione."

"Susan, you do realise you have to let her go," he said reasonably. "You can't leave her up there. What happens when the sky clears?"

Susan was unconcerned. "Oh, she'll pop over to the next cloud bank. I think." She frowned. "I've never actually had it work on anyone before, although I did try it on Madam Raffles, before I resorted to the rare diseases research lab. Strange. After working so closely with Severus for so many months, I don't see how she couldn't have fallen in love with him."

"The mind truly boggles."

"Well, I believe we're done here, then," Susan said brightly, standing up. "Severus and I had the loveliest time this afternoon, with the influence of that awful girl removed from our life. I'm sure if you'll explain to her that she needs to give up her fanciful notion of ever having a chance with Severus, she can be right as rain and on her way in no time." She giggled. "Rain. That's funny. Clouds. Do you get it, Harry?"

Harry nodded and stood as well. "Yes, Susan, I'm afraid I do. And I'm afraid you won't be going anywhere just yet. I'm not going to charge you officially tonight, not until you've had a chance to consider the gravity of your situation. I'll have someone bring you to a holding cell where you can wait until morning. If you change your mind about reversing the spell, things may go easier for you."

Harry left the building with Susan's infuriated screams ringing in his ears.

I had started to doze off by the time Ron came back. I don't think I could actually have fallen asleep; it was too cold for that. I kept poking my wand alternately into my right boot, then my left one, with a Heating Charm going, to keep my toes from getting numb. I held the broom with one hand, balanced across my lap, just in case.

"Harry not back yet?" Ron asked as he floated in front of me on a borrowed broom. He had a miner's lamp strapped to his forehead, and it was glaring into my eyes.

"Could you turn that thing off?" I asked, cupping my hands over my face. "And no, Harry hasn't been back yet."

"Here, I've got one of Mum's Thermal Blankets, a thermos full of hot tea, and some sandwiches." He shrugged his way out of a bulky rucksack which was strapped to his back, and held it out to me.

"Thanks." I tried to balance the rucksack on my lap along with the broom, and wrest its contents out without anything falling. It wasn't easy. Getting at the blanket was the first order of business. As soon as I draped it over my shoulders, its inherent Warming Charm kicked in. Instant gratification. Next came the sandwiches. After a bit of fumbling, I managed to separate out one and unwrap it. It smelled heavenly: egg and cress. I sank my teeth into it, practically shaking with pleasure. I hadn't realised I was so hungry.

"Here, pass me one too, will you?"

I paused and stared at him, unable to speak due to the enormous bite of egg-and-cress in my mouth. I couldn't believe he was actually asking for one of my sandwiches. But then I could. When had Ron ever passed up an opportunity for free food?

"What?" he said, correctly interpreting the look I was giving him. "Mum must have packed five or six in there. You're not going to eat them all."

"Maybe not tonight," I said, after I'd finally swallowed. "What if I'm still here in the morning?"

"I'll bring you more. Come on, it's hard work flying all over creation and back, running errands for you."

I had no words. I silently dug out another sandwich and handed it over.

"Thanks." He unwrapped it and tucked in. "Wonder what's taking Harry so long," he said around a mouthful of bread.

"Maybe he had trouble finding her," I suggested. I wondered if he'd tried the Professor's house. The thought of the two of them there, together, alone, holed up for hours, made me feel quite desolate. I pulled the blanket tighter.

Just then, I saw a light flickering some distance off. At first I thought it was an aeroplane, but from the way it bobbed along, I soon realised it must be Harry.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said, as soon as Harry was within earshot. "Did you find her?"

Harry pulled up and hovered next to Ron. "I found her," he confirmed as he turned off his own headlamp. The happy news was not matched by his expression. I began to get a sinking feeling.

"Don't tell me," I said. "She won't reverse the spell."

"I think you're right about her, Hermione. She's loony. Certifiable. Turns out what she's done to you is probably only the tip of the iceberg."

An awful, cold ball formed in my stomach. I could barely bring myself to say it out loud, but I had to know. "She hasn't... She didn't hurt the Professor, did she?"

Harry looked startled. "I don't know. Didn't actually think of that." He rubbed the back of his neck. "She was going on so much about how she was in love with him" -Ron made a rude noise- "it never occurred to me she might have done anything to him, too. You're right, though, I'd better check it out."

Now I was getting into a panic. My own predicament meant nothing. I was safe - yes, I was magically attached to a mass of condensed water, but I had all my limbs, my wits, and my magic. I didn't even want to imagine what she might have done to the Professor.

"Harry, please, go find him now!" I pleaded. "I wouldn't put anything past her!"

"I will, I promise. But first, let me tell you what she said. There might be a way for you to get out of this."

"Harry!" We'd left Professor Snape in the lurch once, when we could have helped him. We couldn't do that to him again!

"Listen to him, Hermione," Ron said soothingly. "We'll check up on Snape, I promise. Anyway, if she did off him, there's not much we can do about it now, is there?"

"And she's being held under observation," Harry added. "She won't be doing anything to anyone else for a while at least. Right. She said..." He stuck his fingers into a pocket of his robes and pulled out a small notebook, which he consulted. "She wouldn't tell me the incantation for the spell she cast on you, but she did make it up herself. Said it was 'a cross between the Unwanted Suitor Charm and the Exile Enchantment'," he read from his notes. "Does that mean anything to you?"

I forced myself to turn my thoughts away from memories of Professor Snape exsanguinating on the floor of the Shrieking Shack and flipped through my internal index of spells. "Well, the Exile Enchantment is clear. It's similar to a Banishing Charm, but sends the target to a real physical location. I don't know the other one. But I think it's clear what the intent is. I am the unwanted suitor. There must be more to it than that, though. Oh, if only I could get to a library!"

"I've got someone working on it," Harry said reassuringly. "They may not be as brilliant as you, but I'm certain they'll come up with something soon. Once we get the spell pinned down, we can take another crack at cancelling it. In the meantime, though, there might be another way. Now, don't take this the wrong way, and Ron, please, keep quiet."

"I haven't said a word!" Ron said indignantly.

"And I'd like for it to stay that way. Right. Hermione..." He turned to me with the attitude of someone having to deliver very unpleasant news. "Susan said the spell is keyed to her, who she 'carries a torch for', is the way she put it. It only works on someone who is..." Harry took a breath and, forcing himself to be as calm and neutral as possible, said, "...in love with the same person she is."

There was momentary silence while we all digested that. Well, I knew I was in love with the Professor. It wasn't much of a revelation to me. The oddness lay in having it stated so baldly, however; to have it acknowledged like that in front of both Harry and Ron.

Ron seemed to have got it by this point, as a groan emanated from his general direction. "Oh, bloody hell..."

"Ron," Harry said sternly. "That's not going to help."

"Really? Did you have to go and fall in love with him?" Ron whinged. "I thought it was just some..." He waved his sandwich around helplessly. "... some do-gooder thing, a project, like with the house-elves."

"He is not a 'project'," I huffed. "I quite enjoy his company."

Ron's face screwed up. "You haven't- I mean, the two of you, you haven't..." He twirled his finger around in the air suggestively.

"No! Not that it's any of your business, but no! He has no idea," I admitted. "And it's going to stay that way!" I glared at him.

Ron put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Hey, no worries, he won't hear it from me."

"Hermione," Harry interjected at this point, "getting back to this spell." He appeared to consider carefully how he was going to deploy the bombshell. "Susan said if you would renounce your feelings for him, whatever they are... you would be released." I could tell he was watching me for signs of an explosion, but I didn't feel angry. Only drained.

"Harry, I didn't ask for this. Any of this." I shrugged uncomfortably. "It just happened."

"But think about it, Hermione," he said gently. "Snape's never going to change. Chances are, even if he knew how you felt... nothing would come of it. Is this how you want to live the rest of your life? Pining over someone you can never have? Someone who wouldn't even be good for you in the first place?"

I was hurt by his words, deeply hurt. Although I recognised the truth in them.

"You're still young, Hermione. You can be anything you want. Maybe it's time to move ahead. You know I'm only saying this because I love you. If you and Snape made each other happy, that would be one thing. But as far as I can see, you're miserable over him, and he couldn't give a rat's arse about anything, not even himself."

"Listen to him, Hermione," Ron said, swallowing the last of his sandwich. "The man makes sense."

I couldn't say anything for a moment. The lump in my throat was too big. If I was to give up on Professor Snape, though, there was something I needed to know.

"Harry..." I had to clear my throat, and then asked, quietly, "Do you think... Was she telling the truth at all? About her and Professor Snape?"

Harry regarded me. I could tell he was weighing how much to tell me. "I don't know," he said finally. "She said a lot of crazy things during the interview, but I didn't get the impression she was lying. She seemed only too pleased with how things had worked out for her."

"I see," I said, trying not to let on how much that hurt.

"On the other hand," Harry said, cocking his head, as if remembering, "I don't think she actually said she and Snape were 'together', if you get my meaning. Only that they spent the afternoon together, but then she was supposed to see him for his therapy session anyway, right?"

"Yes," I agreed, but I wasn't appeased.

"Well, I'd better get back," Harry said, all business again. "See if any new developments have come up. And," he added, at my sharp, pleading look, "I'll check on Snape. I promise."

I nodded. "Thanks," I managed to whisper.

He reached over and gave me a one-armed hug. Then Ron did, too, and it was the three of us again. Something snapped in me, and I started bawling. To their credit, neither of the boys let go until my sobs had subsided and I was able to breathe again.

"I'm sorry," I sniffled, and cleaned my face with a Tergeo. "I know you two are right. I just... wish it wasn't so hard."

"Buck up, Hermione, there are loads of blokes out there dying to read books with you, or listen to you tell them about books you read, or..." Ron appeared to be grasping for what I might find attractive in a man. "...read books to you," he finally came up with, looking quite pleased with himself.

I gave him a watery smile. "Thanks, Ron. You know me so well."

He grinned. "You're our girl. You know we'll always look out for you."

"I know," I said with a sigh.

"Will you stay with her then, Ron?" Harry asked.

"What- er, I mean... Yeah, sure," Ron said, clearly not having expected to.

"Cheers," Harry said. "We'll get you out of this one way or the other, Hermione; you'll see!" He circled around, turned on his headlamp, and waved before he dived into the clouds.

"You don't have to stay, Ron," I said, once we were alone.

"No, no, it's fine," he said stoically, hunching up his shoulders against the cold. "I'll just, you know, sit here. On my broom. You can tell me about a book you've read." He braced himself.

I laughed. "You can't sit there all night. You'll fall asleep and fall off. Look, I'll be fine. I might even be able to get some sleep," I said, trying to sound cheerful. To demonstrate, I buckled up the rucksack, strapped it to my chest, and lay down, still holding tightly to the broom Ron had given me earlier. I had to wrap the blanket tightly around my legs so it wouldn't hang into the clouds. "Look, all cosy!" I felt like an overburdened mummy.

"Hermione, I can't leave you all alone."

I sat up again. "Yes, you can, Ron. It won't do us any good for you to sit up here, freezing all night. You know what?" I said with a sudden inspiration. "You could bring me something. A couple of things, actually. First, a book." I laughed again as he rolled his eyes at my predictability. "I know, but it gets pretty boring sitting here for hours and hours. If you go to my office, I have a stack of books I've been meaning to read in my bottom drawer. Any one will do.

"And the second thing is, several lengths of cord. I want to tie these things to me, so I don't have to juggle them all the time." I indicated the broom, rucksack, and blanket. "I'm constantly worried I'm going to let something fall, and it will kill someone down below."

"Sure," Ron said tiredly. "Anything else?"

"Yes. I don't want to see you back here before eight a.m.," I said in my most bossy tone.

I could tell Ron was torn between loyalty to me and his warm bed.

"I mean it! You go home now and get some sleep. I'll be fine."

"If you're sure..."

"Positive. Honestly, I'd only worry if you stay," I said firmly.

"Harry'll kill me."

"He'll have to go through me first. And anyway, I'm sure this won't last much longer. Either Susan will snap, or Harry's people will figure out how to reverse the spell. I'll probably be back home before you are." Truthfully, I wasn't at all confident of either scenario, but I didn't see any other way to assuage Ron's sense of duty. And I wanted to be alone. I needed to think about things, and I couldn't do it with Ron hanging about next to me. Literally.

"If you need anything, all you have to do is send word."

"I'll see you in the morning."

"Book and cords. Got it." He turned on his headlamp.

"I love you, Ron," I said sweetly.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he said, embarrassed but pleased. "Good thing I don't have any loopy admirers." He flew a circle around me, preparing to descend. "Snape? Really?"

"Good night, Ron," I said in an exasperated tone, but I couldn't help smiling.

And then he was swallowed up by the clouds, and I was left alone in the dark. At least I was warm now, thanks to Molly's blanket. I remembered the tea, too, and opened the rucksack up to get it out. She'd remembered to put sugar in. I felt a lump in my throat again.

Snape? Really? Ron's question echoed in my head. And Harry's words, as well. Was this how I wanted to live the rest of my life? Waiting for the Professor? Because, I had to admit to myself, that's exactly what I was doing. Not that I didn't have other interests, other goals, or other social contacts. But there was a part of me that hoped, that had reserved a corner of my heart for him, and as long as that was occupied, no one else had a chance with me. And I did want to share my life with someone. Although I had friends, good ones, I was lonely.

So many times, too, I'd thought Professor Snape and I had a real connection, a sense of understanding and commonality. Had that all been nothing more than my imagination? He'd been gruff this afternoon - yesterday, now - but he wasn't always so off-putting. There were times when he seemed to let his guard down, when he relaxed and even joked with me, albeit in his usual sardonic manner. I'd thought we were friends.

All I had to do was give up this silly notion of being in love with him, and I could get back to my regular life. The mere idea tore at my heart, made a physical ache start somewhere deep in my gut. I didn't want to give him up. I didn't even want to give up the idea of him. Not unless he told me outright that he no longer wanted me in any part of his life.

It must have been the wee hours of the morning by now; the moon had come up, bathing the cloudscape in its soft glow. I'd finished the tea, so I re-packed the thermos and lay down again, clutching the rucksack and broom to my chest. "Severus," I whispered, but the wind snatched the word away, and it was gone before it had even reached my ears.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: This work of fiction is based on the Harry Potter series created by J.K. Rowling and owned by various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. _

**Chapter 6**

Snape's house was dark. The whole row was dark, in fact. The nearest lamp dangled forlornly from a wire two streets back. Harry slipped out his wand and whispered a _Hominem Revelio_ toward the house. A cold sensation gripped his heart when there was no reaction, but a second later, he relaxed slightly as he felt the magical protections surrounding the house gently pushing his spell back at him. Snape wasn't necessarily dead or missing, then, simply well-warded.

He'd have to do this the old-fashioned way. Cringing inwardly at what he feared Snape's reaction would be to being awakened at 4 a.m., he reached up and clacked the knocker as loud as he dared. He didn't want to wake the entire neighbourhood. When there was no response after thirty seconds, he repeated the action. "Professor!" he called, softly. "Professor Snape? It's Harry Potter!"

He knocked again, more forcefully. "Professor Snape! It's important; please. It's about Hermione!"

"Do you mind?" The door knocker wiggled its nose disdainfully. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

Harry took his hand off the knocker and spoke to the ugly little face. "Is Professor Snape in? Please, it's urgent."

"Password?" the knocker drawled, suppressing a yawn.

Harry swore. "I don't know the bloody password! Uh..." He tried frantically to think of what Snape might possibly have used. "Slytherin, potions, Dumbledore ... Hogwarts!"

The door opened abruptly. Harry blinked, nonplussed. The password was _Hogwarts?_

"The hallmark of a decent password, Potter, is that it cannot be guessed." Harry found himself at the receiving end of one of Snape's famous death glares. _Not Hogwarts, then_. "This had better be good."

"It is, sir. I mean, it's not good at all. Quite bad, in fact. If you'd let me in..."

Snape stepped back into the unilluminated interior of his house. "Yes," he agreed dryly, "the Office of Misinformation would have a field day if I were to hex you on the open street."

"Thank you, sir." Harry entered the house. He'd been here before, when Snape had first been brought home to continue his convalescence in familiar surroundings. It still smelled the same.

Snape raised the lights slightly with a wave of his wand, just enough so they weren't standing in the dark. The bookshelf-lined room looked much the same, as well, although less dusty and unkempt. Snape was wearing his ubiquitous black robes, buttoned high up over his neck.

"It's about Hermione, sir," Harry began, cutting right to the chase. "It's a bit complicated, so I'll come right to it."

Snape's eyes widened in something akin to alarm, but he remained otherwise impassive.

"She's been the victim of a rather nasty curse from Susan Bones. Your physical therapist."

"I know who Healer Bones is!" Snape snapped. "Don't belabour your report with unnecessary details. How is Miss Granger? Where is she?"

"She's fine... sort of. Physically, anyway. And mentally, too, I mean, it's not like she was Confunded or anything."

"Potter! You're babbling!"

"Yes, sir. Hermione is at this moment at an altitude of approximately two kilometres, somewhere between Bolton and Blackburn, drifting north on a raincloud."

Snape gave Harry a severe look. "Talk sense, man!"

"That's the honest-to-Merlin truth, sir. Healer Bones sent her up there because she thought she was a rival for your affection." Harry summarised the events of the evening while Snape's expression became more and more thunderous. Out of respect for Hermione's wishes, Harry glossed over the fact that Susan's spell had only worked on her because of her affection for Professor Snape, instead making it sound like Susan had targeted her on a mad whim.

"Miss Granger is safe for the time being?" was Snape's first question, once Harry was finished.

"Yes, sir, as safe as we could make her. Ron's with her, just in case."

"And I assume the reason for you showing up on my doorstep at this hour is that you are hoping I can work a counter-curse." He stepped over to the nearest bookshelf and ran his finger along the row, scanning the titles.

"Actually, sir, we have people working on it already. The real reason I came is because Hermione was worried about you."

Snape's finger hesitated, but he didn't turn around. "Explain."

"Hermione thought Healer Bones might have done something to you. Put you under an enchantment, or cursed you."

"Ridiculous."

"It seems so," Harry agreed. "Which means one less thing for me to worry about tonight. I'd appreciate it if you could come to the Department tomorrow - that is, later today, at a more convenient time, to give a statement. I need to get back now, see if our people have made any progress on breaking the enchantment." Harry stood.

"Your people couldn't turn off Bluebell Flames in a typhoon. I'll need to talk to Healer Bones myself." Snape was already at the door, moving surprisingly quickly despite his handicap. "Have you been immobilised, Potter?" he snapped.

"No, sir," Harry responded, grinning. "Would you like me to Side-Along you?"

Snape regarded Harry disdainfully. "I'm a cripple, not a Squib."

"Right you are, sir." Harry preceded Snape out of the house. Once they were out of range of the protective enchantments and certain no one was watching, both disappeared with a pop.

"Severus!" Susan clutched the bars of her cell with one hand and stretched the other imploringly towards Snape. He stood well back, next to Harry, watching the unfortunate witch with undisguised alarm.

"Healer Bones! Contain yourself," Snape ordered her.

"I knew you'd come for me," she said, giving Harry a triumphant look.

"I have not come for you," Snape said icily. "I have come to either induce you to release Miss Granger, or to extract such information from you that I am able to release her myself."

"But don't you see?" she pleaded. "We can only be happy together without her influence. She's stood in the way for too long."

"We will never be 'happy' together," Snape said, his lip curling in disgust.

Susan's eyes filled with tears. "How can you say that? Didn't we have a wonderful time this afternoon, just the two of us? And all the other afternoons we've spent together? Did they mean nothing to you?"

"The only reason I agreed to allow your visits was a sense of duty to a meddling group of Gryffindors, which I now see was misplaced and ill-thought. I should long ago have rejected their continued attempts to direct my life, both public and private."

"Yes, yes exactly!" Susan cried. "I'm so happy you understand me, finally. It's as I told Granger: there are going to be some major changes around here. Starting with getting rid of her. The only problem is, now... " Susan beckoned to Snape, eying Harry with mistrust. Snape took two wary steps closer, taking care to remain out of arm's reach. "They're all in it together against us, you know," Susan whispered. "Potter and all the others. They're not going to let me out of here if I don't let Granger go. It's as simple and ugly as that. I don't want to, of course. As soon as I do, she'll be right back in your house, driving a wedge between us. But..." Susan licked her lips. "If you were to marry me... Well, that would be sending the right kind of signal to her. To everyone. I'll bet that would be the end of their meddling. And I'd take such good care of you, Severus, really I would." She looked at him anxiously.

"Potter was right," Snape said in a flat tone, stepping back. "You are insane. I can see there is no other way to do this." He aimed his wand carefully at Susan's forehead. "_Legili-_"

"Stop!" Harry had reached out and pushed Snape's wand aside. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I'm afraid you can't do that. Proper channels and all that."

"What did you bring me here for then, Potter!" Snape snarled. "We haven't time to dally around with proper channels."

"I thought you might be more successful than me, given the... special nature of your relationship." Harry tried to hide his smirk and failed spectacularly.

Snape clenched his jaw so hard that his teeth started to hurt. "There. Is. No. Relationship."

"I can see that now. I was also curious, though, whether her story had any truth to it. I'm glad to see there wasn't. For more than merely professional reasons."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "What do you-"

His question was interrupted by Susan clearing her throat. Both Snape and Harry directed their attention back to her. She had her hands folded before her and looked much calmer than she had a moment ago.

"I've decided you're right," she said contritely. "It was awful of me, what I did to Hermione. If you'll give me my wand back, I'll end the spell right now." She regarded Harry with solemn eyes.

"What, just like that?" Harry asked, suspicious.

Susan sighed. "I see now that what I did was wrong. I'd like to make it right again. Please, Harry."

Harry considered for a moment, then said, "All right. But you'll only have the one chance."

"That's all I'll need," Susan assured him.

"I'll be right back," Harry told Snape. "Will you keep an eye on her?"

"Be quick about it," Snape said.

Once Harry was gone, Susan's remorse was instantaneously replaced by single-minded determination. She spoke rapidly and with clear intent. "Severus, quickly, I know you had to play along for Potter, but this will be our only chance. Take my hand and Apparate us away from here." She stretched her hand out between the bars.

Snape stared at the limb with affront. "I will do no such thing. It is you who has only one chance."

Susan stamped her foot and wiggled her fingers with impatience. "You said yourself you wanted to get away from all those people who have been keeping you down, holding you back. It will just be you and me. I'll get rid of everyone else, like I did Madam Raffles. No more Potter, or Weasleys, and especially no more Granger. Don't you see what she's been doing to you?"

Snape drew himself up to his full height and stared down his long nose at his would-be lover. "Yes, I believe I have finally seen what she has been trying to do for me. She is the only person who has not attempted to bully me into doing what she wants. She is the only one who has even tried to put me ahead of her own ego and her own agenda. And although I will no longer allow others to run my affairs for me, the people you are so eager to ban from my life are, for lack of a less sentimental word..." His lip curled slightly. "...friends. A fact which you apparently have failed to take into account in your obsessive campaign to ruin my life as thoroughly as you have yours."

"She's not right for you, you know. Oh, she may be in love with you, but she's wrong in the head, or maybe in the heart. She doesn't know how to make a relationship work."

"You are only further confirming my conviction that you live in a fantasy world. Miss Granger has no interest in me, other than on a cordial and professional basis."

Susan chuckled, a mirthless laugh, as she pulled her hand back. "Didn't Potter tell you why the spell worked on her?"

"You invented a devious cross between two different spells. An accomplishment which, under different circumstances, might have been worthy of admiration."

"I think you'll feel quite admiring after I explain a bit more," Susan said smugly. "One of the spells I used was the Unwanted Suitor Charm. An obscure little spell I found in a Mediaeval manuscript. The Normans were terribly romantic. The gist of it is, it's keyed to whomever the target is in love with, and sets off a secondary enchantment on everyone else who comes too near - anything from a Confunding to a case of leprosy. Girls used to have it cast on them in secret, to make sure their families couldn't marry them off to someone they didn't love for political reasons.

"I used a similar idea, and some of the wand movements, but keyed it to myself. My spell will only affect someone who is in love with the same person I am. I'll leave it to you to figure out the rest." Susan gave Snape a smug look. "Who's living in a fantasy world now?"

Snape, for his part, stared back at her, his expression unreadable, but remained silent.

"But I ask you," Susan went on, "given the choice, who would you rather have? Granger, who's apparently in love with you, but has done next to nothing for four years except run your errands - hardly more than a house-elf, or even an owl, could have done. Or me, a fully trained Healer whose entire life is a showcase of my devotion and affection for you. Everything I've done, every goal I've set and reached, has been to put me in a position to help and take care of you."

"There is no choice," Snape said stiffly. "I truly find what you have done unfortunate, and I regret that I may have encouraged you in any manner whatsoever. You need help more than you are able to give it, I'm afraid."

Susan's countenance became stony. "You are making a big mistake."

"As I am certain a large portion of the Wizarding world will be happy to attest, it wouldn't be my first. Nevertheless, I believe I will, as they say, 'take my chances'."

The door opened again, and Harry came in, flanked by two Magical Law Enforcement officers.

"I have your wand here, Susan," he said. "Are you still willing to release Hermione from your spell?"

Susan took one more look at Snape, then nodded grimly. "I'll do it. You've forced my hand."

Harry held the wand up, but didn't hand it over yet. "I'll have my wand trained on you, along with my associates here. I'd advise you not to try anything. If the first word out of your mouth isn't '_Finite_', you will be hit immediately by three Disarming Charms. "

"Four," Snape said, holding his wand at the ready as well.

Harry nodded in acknowledgement. "Four. Disarm only, Professor. Leave the rest to us." He then continued, to Susan, "You will also relinquish your wand immediately after reversing the spell. Again, failure to comply will result in a disarming. Do you understand?"

Susan smirked. "Perfectly. My wand? I just want to get it over with and get out of here." She held out her hand.

Harry placed her wand on the ground and rolled it over into the cell. By the time Susan bent over to retrieve it, the four wizards opposite her already had their wands trained on her.

She straightened up, gripping her wand, a strange smile on her face. "So much concern for one little witch. I wonder... how you'll feel when she's plummeting to her death? _Finite abrupto!_" Susan slashed at the air with her wand, and then several things happened at once.

Snape lunged at Susan, roaring, "No!" as Harry and the two MLE officers all shouted, "_Expelliarmus!_" While one of them was able to deflect his aim, the other two spells hit Snape in the back, causing his wand to fly out of his hand and clatter into the corner. Knocked off-balance, Snape crashed into Susan's cell, one arm reaching through to grab her by the robes.

"What have you done! What have you done!" he raved, wild-eyed, pulling her forward with such force that her cheek smashed against the bars.

"I loved you, Severus," she gasped; then in a faint, strangled voice, she murmured one more incantation, and all of a sudden, there was blood everywhere, spreading across her robes, running down his arm.

"_Mobilicorpus! Arretisangui!_" Harry commanded in quick succession.

Snape flew backwards none too gracefully, and landed with his back against the opposite wall.

Harry was already opening Susan's cell and kneeling down next to her while barking out further orders to the other officers.

Snape staggered to his feet and lurched forward, toward Harry and Susan. "Where is she? You have to tell me! There could still be time-" He seized hold of Harry's shoulder.

"Back off, Professor!" Harry said, ripping away Susan's blood-soaked robes. "Unless you want to help me here, stay back, or I'll be forced to immobilise you!"

"Have you no care for Miss Granger?" Snape demanded, aghast.

Harry paused in his ministrations to turn a cold eye on the other wizard. "More than you will ever know. And if you had a care for her, like she deserves, maybe none of this would ever have happened." He turned his attention back to Susan.

Stunned and confused, Snape groped his way back to the wall. "I do... have a care."

Harry relented a little, saying tiredly, his back still to Snape, "I think she's fine. We took precautions in case something like this happened. And anyway, there's nothing we can do now. If she did fall, my people tell me she would have hit the ground within 20.2 seconds. So let's all hope our precautions worked. And now if you'll excuse me, I have a suspect to save."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

I was dozing, halfway between sleep and waking, thinking about the Professor, trying to recall as many of our interactions as possible. In case there were no more. He'd had me down to his basement laboratory on several occasions, but I remembered one particular time: I was bringing him a crate of empty vials because his supply was running low. There was a full cauldron of some potion or other, ready to be decanted, and another one at a delicate stage which needed his full attention. I quietly took care of the finished potion, and got it ready for delivery; then stood to the side, watching him work.

Looking back, I couldn't remember all the details, but what I did remember was a feeling of calm and belonging, as if I had been invited into one of his most private moments. That might sound odd: given that he'd been the Potions master at Hogwarts for many years, one wouldn't necessarily think of his making potions as a private thing. But in retrospect, I couldn't recall a single instance of him actually preparing a potion in front of the class. He had demonstrated individual steps, such as how to crush beetle eyes properly, or using the twelve points of a clock to map out a stirring pattern. But the actual act of brewing seemed to be something sacred, a priestly ritual reserved only for the eyes of the initiated. And there I was, watching him, being allowed to act as a sort of acolyte.

I'd had the feeling he was very aware of my presence as well, and that it didn't irritate him. Quite the opposite: I had the impression he was - well, trying to impress me might be taking things a bit too far. It wasn't that he was showing off, either. More like he wanted me to think well of him.

When he was finished with the second potion, he came over to see what I'd done with the first. After ascertaining that all the vials were filled to exactly the same level, and all the seals made perfectly, he nodded and caught my eye and pronounced the job 'adequate'. My heart fluttered, as that seemingly underwhelming word carried a note of acknowledgment which warmed me more than any O in his classes would have done. As if he was saying I was all right, I could be a part of his life. Maybe I was reading too much into it. It was likely all nothing more than wishful thinking.

I wanted him to think of me as a part of his life, though, as much as he was a large part of mine. I looked forward to every visit, with both anxiety and excitement. Every time our eyes met, there was a crackling of possibility, of questioning, that passed between us. Or had I only imagined it? Was I as deluded as poor Susan Bones?

And then air was rushing past me, pummelling my body, and there was something thick and warm wrapped around my head, over my face, and I couldn't breathe. At first, I half thought this was nothing more than a dream, and tried to wake up, when I realised what was happening: I was falling.

I clawed at the Thermal Blanket, which had got twisted up with my cloak and was now throttling me mercilessly in the blast of air. In my panic to get my nose and mouth free, I nearly discarded the broom I was still clutching in one hand. It was a good thing my survival instinct remained vigilant even as my mind had wandered. In the nick of time, I remembered what I was holding the broom for, and I tried to shove it down between my legs, fighting against the pressure of the atmosphere coming at me at a hundred and twenty miles an hour.

After what seemed like forever, but must only have been a few seconds, the blanket flew free, and my breath was slammed out of me a second time as the full impact of the wind hit me in the face. At the same time, my field of vision now cleared, I registered that the houses below me were no longer dark spots between the foliage, but actual, three-dimensional shapes, separated by perpendicular strips lined with lights and dotted with moving cars. I'd barely had time to realise I was approaching said houses and cars at an alarming rate when I noticed I was already below the level of some of the higher buildings around me; if I'd been a couple of streets farther to the left, I could have hit one.

Acting more out of reflex than skill, I managed to get one leg on either side of the broom and pull up, hard. The bottom dropped out of my stomach as my trajectory adjusted from straight down to horizontal. My foot skimmed the top of one of the trees lining the street, and I nearly did a roll-over avoiding a second one. Whose idea was it to plant trees in the middle of a city anyway? I couldn't gain enough control of the broom to get out of the way of the traffic sign that suddenly loomed up at me out of the darkness, however, and I slammed sideways into it, then bounced off and hit the roof of a parked car. I lost my grip on the broom and fell off onto the pavement, where I rolled over several times until my momentum used itself up. I had landed.

I lay there gasping for a bit, until I realised I was still alive. I'd had the wind knocked out of me, my hands were scraped pretty badly, and there was a sharp pain in my right knee, but I could move it. The rucksack still strapped to my chest, along with my thick cloak, had done their part to protect me.

I took stock of my surroundings. It looked like a business district in a derelict part of some mid-size city. It was still dark, but sunrise couldn't be too far off. I was lying on the pavement in front of a darkened shopfront with a peeling 'Closing Down Sale' sign in the window. I couldn't see any other people around at this early hour. So much the better.

I pulled myself to my feet. My knee was already swelling, and shaky when I tried to put weight on it. It didn't seem to be anything too serious, but I certainly wasn't going to be able to walk anywhere. I spotted Ron's broom lying a short distance away. I reached into the inner pocket of my cloak for my wand, and was relieved to find that it hadn't been dislodged by either my fall or my pathetic excuse for a landing.

"_Accio Broom!_" It shot into my hand, stinging as it hit the cuts on my palm. I certainly wasn't going to fly it again. I didn't know where I was, and even if I did, I didn't feel up to sitting on a broom for any lengthy flights. I was also not sure about Apparating at this point, given the levels of adrenaline and dopamine pumping through my system.

There was only one thing for me to do. I sent off a Patronus to both Harry and Ron, letting them know I was all right and where I was headed, then hobbled out to the kerb, and stuck my wand out. I didn't have to wait long. With a sudden whooshing of air and screeching of brakes, a purple triple-decker bus materialised before me.

The conductor, a long-faced young man with his cap pulled low over his eyes, intoned, "Welcome aboard the Knight Bus."

It didn't take long before we arrived in front of the Ministry. I felt measurably more stable, after a strong shot of hot chocolate and a sticky bun (made fresh by the conductor's mother, I was told). I'd cleaned up my hands and healed the scrapes as best I could, and made an attempt to order my clothes and hair, as much as was possible riding a conveyance whose driver had never heard of the concept of 'gradual deceleration'.

During our journey, I considered what might have precipitated my sudden fall, and came to the conclusion that Harry and his curse breakers must have cancelled the spell rather than reversed it, so that instead of being returned to where I started, I had been simply dropped in mid-air. It was an understandable error, especially given they hadn't known the initial incantation to work with. Still, it had been quite a dangerous gamble, and I meant to give Harry a stern talking-to.

As I debarked, I saw there was already a welcoming committee standing out front. Harry and Ron I'd expected, but the sight of the tall, black-clad Professor hovering uncertainly behind them threw me for quite a loop. Several possible explanations for his presence shot through my head, each more distressing than the last: he'd come to bail Susan out; he was here to press charges against me for failing to deliver his potions on time; Harry had had to rescue him after he'd been locked up somewhere by his psychotic P.T.; Harry had summoned him in order to tell him the whole sordid story, including the reason the spell had worked on me.

As I was engulfed by my two best friends hugging me and exclaiming at my miraculous return, I couldn't take my eyes off Professor Snape. And neither, it appeared, could he keep his off me. It was as if there were an invisible cord tying our gazes to each other. There was such an intensity of emotion in his eyes, but I couldn't tell whether it was anger, disappointment, or something else.

Harry must have noticed I wasn't paying much attention to him and Ron, because he leaned down and whispered in my ear, "He was rather upset when Susan ended the spell abruptly like that." I was taken aback. So it hadn't been incompetent Aurors, but a real attempt at getting rid of me... permanently. I was dying to know why the Professor had been present at the moment Susan cancelled the spell, and more generally, where he had been this whole time, but I couldn't ask anything, as Harry was still speaking: "Nearly killed her with his bare hands. He was beside himself until we got your Patronus."

I tried to make sense of what Harry was saying. Surely not that Professor Snape cared about me? He would react similarly with anyone, wouldn't he? If Kingsley had been in danger, or Professor McGonagall... Wouldn't he? I managed to tear my eyes away from the Professor, who still hadn't moved, to look at Harry.

"What do you mean?" I whispered.

"He's got it for you, Hermione," Ron said glumly, from my other side. "Wouldn't have thought he had it in him. Harry already told him he could go home, but he won't until he's seen you're safe. His words."

My eyes returned to the Professor. He looked most displeased. I didn't think the boys were interpreting things right. They'd never been much good at emotional stuff, after all. On the other hand, why would Professor Snape still be standing there, staring at me? I didn't dare hope; I'd only end up looking like a fool.

"Go on," Harry said with a sigh. "You have my blessing." He nudged me forward.

Half in a daze, I hobbled toward the steps. Immediately, the Professor's blank expression turned to one of alarm, and he limped down the steps to meet me halfway. I wished he would use a cane, but it didn't do any good suggesting it.

"You're injured!" he exclaimed, reaching out to steady me with his hand lightly supporting my elbow.

"It's nothing, just a bit bruised," I assured him. "I had a bit of a rough landing." I hefted the broom, which I was still carrying. His eyes on me were hot enough to boil Euphoria Elixir. _Didn't he feel that?_ I laughed nervously. "Aren't we a pair? My knee, your leg..." I trailed off, feeling that once again I'd put my foot in my mouth.

True to my fears, he scowled at being reminded of his injury. But he didn't release my arm. "Was this Potter's idea of a 'contingency plan'?" he demanded in disgust. "Giving you a broom and wishing you 'happy landings'?"

I was trying to think of some defence when I realised with horror that there were stiff, dark stains all down one side of his robes.

"My God, Professor! You've been hurt!" I tossed the broom down and grabbed his hand. It was covered with thick, brown streaks: dried blood. Trying to discover the source of the injury, I pushed his sleeve up, but he pulled his hand back and shook his sleeve back down.

"It isn't mine," he said in a flat tone. "Healer Bones made a dramatic attempt at gaining attention. Due to Potter's quick actions and despite my overwrought interference, she did not succeed." _Overwrought? The Professor? Because Susan had got hurt?_ My stomach was doing all sorts of unpleasant things.

"Is she all right?" I asked carefully, trying to read what was behind his words. Was he a concerned lover? Or an innocent bystander?

"She was alive when I last saw her. I presume she will make a full recovery."

"That's good," I said. An awkward silence descended.

"I am ... sorry this happened," he said finally, in a stiff and formal manner.

"It's not your fault," I rushed to assure him. "You didn't know anything about it." I paused. "Right?" I raised my eyes to his, trying not to look too anxious.

He frowned, probably at my stupidity. "I knew nothing, Miss Granger. Nothing at all. If I had known... anything... " I had the distinct feeling there were more layers of meaning in his words than met the eye. His hand tightened on my elbow. Oh, yes, it was still there. I wasn't about to complain. "Still, I admit that I am in some way culpable." His voice was low and smooth, and I was getting goosebumps.

I started to protest, but he held his hand up. "If I had had any inkling of Healer Bones' delusional feelings, I would have ended our association immediately."

"Your association," I repeated, dumbly. Did he mean personal or professional?

"Her engagement as my physical therapist," he clarified, and now I thought I detected a hint of amusement behind his cold words.

"Of course. Yes, of course. Obviously," I babbled. "I just thought... Well, she said some things. I didn't think... but then I wasn't sure..."

"Miss Granger. Take deep breaths."

I complied. Did I mention I was about to melt under the force of his eyes?

"As I said," he continued, "whatever scenario she imagined was entirely fictitious. The only reason I agreed to allow her to treat me was because I thought it was what you, and others, wanted."

"I never..." I protested breathlessly. "I mean, yes, I did think it would be a good idea, but not-"

"Miss Granger," he interrupted me again. "I understand completely. However, as a result of this incident, I have decided to make some changes. For one thing, my life will no longer be governed by committee. I know that Minerva, Kingsley, Molly, and others" -here his eye flicked over to Harry and Ron, who were doing their best to fade into the background without entirely abandoning me- "have only acted according to their conscience and done what they thought was in my best interest. However, I am a grown man, and I will not be coddled and cocooned. I am taking charge of my own affairs and excising all unwanted influence."

My heart sank. That was the end of our 'association' as well, then. "Yes, sir," I said, putting on a brave face. "I'm terribly sorry I wasn't able to deliver your potions yesterday. If you'd allow me, as a last service, I'd very much like to go to the client and explain what happened-"

The Professor's eyebrows drew down in a dark line of annoyance. "You will do no such thing. As a last or any other kind of service. You are not my house-elf." My disappointment was now getting competition from a rising indignation. Honestly, it was one thing to want to take charge of his life, quite another to be so dismissive and rude. "I will be visiting the client myself this morning," he said. My eye drifted unintentionally to his stained clothing. "Yes," he remarked with a smirk, "perhaps I should go home and change first. As should you." I became suddenly aware of what a fright I must look. And smell. "And then, Miss Granger..." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Was he... nervous? "I should be honoured if you would join me for dinner this evening. I believe we have much to discuss."

Now I was confused. "I'm sorry, sir, I... I thought you didn't want anything to do with any of us any more."

"And I thought you were supposed to be the clever one," he growled. "I said I was removing all _unwanted_ influences from my life. A very... astute friend of yours" -the admission seemed to pain him- "suggested that if I had paid you the respect you were due, this entire fiasco might not have happened." He inclined his head slightly. "I believe it is time for us to change the parameters of our interactions. I have taken advantage of you for far too long."

"Oh no, I was happy to-"

"I realise this." He leaned down and spoke low in my ear, close enough that the ends of his hair brushed against my cheek. "But do you not think that perhaps, on a different footing, a greater happiness might ensue... Miss Granger?"

My heart stopped. My insides turned to jelly. My brain completely shut down.

He straightened. "Potter! Weasley!" he snapped, his terminal scowl firmly in place again. "Do you think you could see to it that Miss Granger arrives home safely without sustaining further injury?"

Footsteps approached from somewhere behind me. "We'll take care of her, Professor," I heard Harry say through the blood pounding in my ears.

"We always have," Ron added stoutly, and an arm went around my waist.

"I will call for you at eight," the Professor said as he relinquished my arm. I sagged against Ron and nodded mutely. Without breaking eye contact with me, the Professor stepped back, then, in a twirl of black robes, disappeared.

"You okay, Hermione?" Ron asked, giving me a squeeze to see if I was still responsive.

"What happened?" I said weakly.

"I think we were just witness to someone being swept off their feet, Ron," Harry said.

_Oh. Is that what that was. Yes. I see. Eight o'clock then._ The enormity of what had just transpired began to hit. My sore knee gave way. I was glad for Ron's sturdy body supporting me. "Oh God," I moaned.

"What is it?" Ron and Harry both asked together.

I looked from one concerned face to the other and admitted tremulously, "I haven't a thing to wear."

**F-I-N!**


End file.
